


the twelve years of Christmas

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Christmas Story, F/M, Happy Ending, I played with the timeline a little bit, Pre-Story to Season 7, actually a whole lot, mistletoe trope, pls don't sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: Jane celebrates nine Christmases with the CBI, and three without.All-in-all, Jane loves Christmas. Lisbon's indifferent. And no, there's not a guy named Douglas in this fic.(You'll get it once you read it, I promise.)
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Patrick Jane's Gift Exchange 2020





	the twelve years of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_of_Winterhell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Winterhell/gifts).



> It was nice going back to my humor roots once again, as I missed writing silly!warm!team fic! 
> 
> I seriously hope you enjoy this fic, as I had a BLAST writing it. :D 
> 
> (and yes, I messed with the timeline slightly--but I WAGE WARS against timelines!)

On Patrick Jane’s first Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, Teresa Lisbon refused to decorate her office for the holidays. She said, and he quoted, “This office doesn’t need any decorating”. So, to infuriate her, he decided to decorate his couch. Flashing lights and glitter cutout snowflakes greeted her, the next time she stepped out of her office with a cup of coffee in hand.

“I thought I said no decorations,” Lisbon told him with a scowl.

Of course, he had only simply smiled before picking up a sprig of mistletoe. “You know, it’s bad luck to not kiss if you’re standing under some mistletoe.”

“Good thing I’m not standing under it, then, hm?” Lisbon asked. “Guess you’ll just have to kiss yourself.”

Jane frowned at her. “You’re no fun.”

::::

On Jane’s second Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, he bought Lisbon a small Christmas tree.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Lisbon asked Jane, as she stepped into her office to see the undecorated fir tree sitting innocently by her desk.

“Decorate it?” Jane replied with a grin. She stared at him as if he’d just said something outlandish. “It’s a Christmas tree, Lisbon, not a demon.”

“Same difference,” Lisbon muttered under her breath and Jane chuckled at her. “Jane, I want this out of my office.”

“It’s just a Douglas fir tree.”

Lisbon rolled her eyes. “First a Douglas fir tree, then you’ll be attempting to bring a guy named Douglas in on the fun.” Jane continued to chuckle. “Don’t think I don’t know how you work, Jane.”

“I don’t even know a guy named Douglas,” Jane defended himself, which caused Lisbon to shake her head. “C’mon, Lisbon. It’s just a Christmas tree. If you accept it, do you really think anyone will think differently of you?”

Lisbon blinked. “You’re the mentalist, you tell me.”

He stared at her for a moment before he slowly nodded. “Again, it’s a Christmas tree—not a proposal.” Jane watched as her eyes grew wide. “Jeez, Lisbon. Did some guy propose to you with a Christmas tree?”

“No, Jane.”

“They did, didn’t they?”

“Get out, Jane.”

“No wonder you have such an aversion to Douglas fir trees.” Jane grinned at her. “I promise you that this Douglas fir tree is just an extension of friendship.”

“Jane?”

“Hm?”

“Why can’t you be a normal person and just offer lunch for friendship instead?”

::::

On Jane’s third year of Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, he bought Lisbon a couch.

“Merry Christmas, Lisbon!” Jane called out, surprising her as she stepped into her office with wide eyes. Beneath Jane was a red couch and not her unusually bland couch, that she had purchased on a whim for her office space. “Hope you love the color red.”

“Why does my couch look like a murder scene?” Lisbon asked, as she removed her blazer. Jane stood from the couch and grinned. “It’s red fabric, right? Not blood. You didn’t sacrifice goats on this, did you?” Jane kept smiling and Lisbon grimaced. “Damnit, Jane. Why can’t you just mail Christmas cards like every other person?”

“This couch marks three years of friendship, Lisbon! It’s definitely worth celebrating.”

“We met in August…”

“But we never truly became friends until after I decorated my couch for Christmas that first year,” Jane admitted, before he added, “or was it when you accepted my Douglas fir tree? Friendship is such a finicky subject.”

“Jane,” Lisbon replied evenly. “We’re not friends.”

“Of course, we are.”

“We’re workplace acquaintances, who sometimes happen to carpool together.”

“Carpool friends?”

Lisbon sighed. “Again, we’re not friends.”

“Calling us workplace acquaintances after all we’ve been through is a sham,” Jane argued. “You save my life at least twice a week and I provide entertainment to you, almost every other week. So, in that definition, we’re friends.”

Lisbon glanced upwards and Jane _swore_ he heard her mutter _god help me_. “If you don’t leave my office, the couch isn’t going to be the only thing painted red this year.”

::::

On Jane’s fourth Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, he decorated Lisbon’s SUV to look like a reindeer.

“Lisbon’s gonna be pissed, Jane,” Rigsby idly commented, after he had stepped outside the CBI for some lunch to find Jane attaching the antlers. “How did you get her keys anyway?”

Jane grinned. “Same way I did this.” From his back pocket, he pulled out Rigsby’s cellphone.

“What the hell, man?”

“Now,” Jane answered, as he stepped back from Lisbon’s SUV. “It’s the deer-mobile!” Rigsby snatched his phone back from Jane, grimacing. “Too cringey? What about Rudolf the Black SUV?”

“How about you take this off right now or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll never be able to move again?” Lisbon proposed and Jane tapped his finger to his chin before he shook his head.

“That’s too long of a name, Lisbon.”

Lisbon sighed. “Again, why can’t you just be _normal?_ ” She paused to grab her car keys from his extended hand. “Also, stop taking my car keys!”

::::

On Jane’s fifth Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, he proposed Secret Santa.

“Why?” Cho asked.

“The better question is _why not_?” Jane replied, as he reclined on his leather couch. Lisbon had hidden away in her office, probably to avoid his discussion of all Christmas related things. He’d never say it out loud, but he suspected that Lisbon was secretly the Grinch. “This is our last year as just us four. Next year we’ll have a rookie, and you can’t exactly do Secret Santa with five people, now can you?”

“You technically can,” Rigsby argued.

Jane blinked at him. “Rigsby, two and two. Not two and three.”

“Lisbon’ll never agree.”

“I’ll never agree to what?” Lisbon asked, as she stepped into the bullpen. Jane glanced over to her and grinned, which forced Rigsby to roll his eyes.

“Good morning, Lisbon! Aren’t you looking radiant today?”

Lisbon sighed and glanced to Cho. “What does he want?”

Jane pretended to be wounded, as he placed his hand to his heart. “I’m hurt, Lisbon. I can’t just compliment you because I can?”

“He wants to hold a Secret Santa,” Cho interrupted. 

“A what?”

“You know, boss,” Rigsby started, much to Jane’s amusement. “A gift exchange; where we put our names in a hat or bowl or something and we pick each other to give gifts...”

“Or for you, Lisbon, we could always do Dirty Santa.”

Lisbon paused to shake her head. “Every year we go through this and you still try to celebrate Christmas. When are you going to learn, we don’t celebrate Christmas in this unit?”

“And when is your heart going to grow three sizes too big?”

He heard Rigsby sigh from behind him.

::::

On Jane’s sixth Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, Jane decided to focus his attention on Grace Van Pelt.

“At least he’s not decorating my desk or car this year,” Lisbon said to Cho.

Cho merely nodded.

::::

On Jane’s seventh Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, Jane bought Lisbon a nice bottle of brandy.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Lisbon asked Jane, the moment he set the awkwardly shaped bottle onto her desk. “Please tell me this isn’t an apology gift…”

“It’s an apology gift,” Jane replied.

“What did you do?”

“I can’t just deposit an apology gift on your desk for no reason?”

Lisbon shook her head. “No, Jane, you can’t.”

Jane decided to plop down on her red couch and lean forward, which made her suspicious. Why was Jane being _nice_? “I know it’s been a hard year for you, Lisbon. It’s my apology for all of that.” Lisbon glanced at him and shook her head. “I know you depleted your alcohol stash with Bosco’s funeral, so I wanted to do something nice.”

Lisbon said nothing, but Jane could tell she was surprised.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“You’re welcome, Lisbon.”

::::

On Jane’s eighth Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, he helped them solve a murder.

“I can see why you have a certain aversion to Christmas,” Jane told Lisbon, the moment she arrested their murderer, Jason King for the murder of Alice Lambert. “It’s not _Silent Night_ , it’s a Bloody Night!” Jane tsked at Jason. “You should have stuck to Christmas shopping, instead of killing for pleasure really. Cheaper, and you don’t go to jail afterwards either.”

Lisbon scowled, as she started to lead Jason away. “Jane, stop antagonizing the murderer.”

::::

On the ninth year of Christmas, Jane wasn’t around so Lisbon decorated the office herself.

“If any of you tell Jane,” Lisbon threatened her team. “I’ll make sure you’re put on night watch for _at least_ a month.”

“Of course, boss.”

::::

On Jane’s tenth year of Christmas with the Serious Crimes Unit, Jane decided to blast Christmas Carols throughout the CBI at the annual Christmas party.

“ _I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do…_ ” Jane sung to Van Pelt, who glanced down at his cup as though he’d been drinking.

Rigsby took a deep breath. “Don’t interrupt him, Grace. It never ends well.” 

::::

On the eleventh year of Christmas, the CBI was no more.

“Think we could make a decorative CBI ornament for Lisbon?” Jane asked Cho, who seemed quite set on not involving himself in Jane’s Christmas schemes. “Red glitter for blood, a small gun and badge…it would be perfect.”

“No.”

“Cho. The CBI had a website, but no merchandise. We could _make_ CBI merchandise.”

“No.”

“What about _FBI_ merchandise?” He looked to Fischer, who seemed to be on the verge of discomfort. “What do you think, Fischer? Would you wear an FBI glitter vest?” Before Fischer could answer, Cho interrupted from his desk.

“Jane?”

“Yes, Cho?”

“Shut up, already.”

::::

On Jane’s twelfth year of Christmas, he couldn’t help but hold mistletoe above Lisbon’s head.

“Jane, what are you doing?”

“Celebrating a yuletide tradition,” he replied as though it were obvious. “Now, shut up and kiss me woman.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
